


Home Is Wherever I'm with You

by fillory



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: F/M, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Post-Canon, Post-The Raven King, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2020-04-23 19:27:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19157452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fillory/pseuds/fillory
Summary: The inimitable trio take a mid-road trip detour to the Huntington Library in Pasadena, California, and stumble upon an old friend.





	Home Is Wherever I'm with You

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in 2017 as part of a collaborative project in which each participant wrote a chapter about Sarchengsey traveling somewhere we loved. The organizers charted a map across North America, and we were going to publish the chapters together as one long road trip fic. Unfortunately, the last step never happened, and so my chapter remained unpublished until now. I don't remember what was supposed to come before or after my part; if it feels a bit abrupt on either side, that's because it was written for the middle of the fic.
> 
> If you were part of this project and you want to add your chapter to mine, hit me up! We can be coauthors :D

The day dawned with the prettiest sunrise Blue had ever seen: dusty indigo blossomed into periwinkle, mist grey, and soft coral pink; sunlight melted into gold by Los Angeles smog. The sight of it was gorgeous enough to make Gansey point and Blue sigh dreamily—and to make Henry drop his thousand-dollar iPhone out the Camaro’s window trying to take a selfie.

“Fuck!” he howled. “My phone! Can we go back for it? Can we turn around? Maybe it’s still alive.”

Blue, who was driving, snorted. “Henry, we’re going sixty miles an hour down a seven-lane freeway. Your fancy phone is long gone. Mourn it.”

Henry looked about ready to mutiny, but turned to glance out the rear window and seemed to get her point. “Oh, I will,” he replied solemnly. Out of the corner of her eye, Blue saw him put a dramatic hand to his chest. “My mourning period starts now. You have two years of silence before I re-enter society.”

 _Good riddance,_ Blue almost joked—but Gansey broke in before she could say anything with a tentative, “I can get you a new one, Henry. There must be a million Apple Stores in LA.”

Henry was waving him off even before Gansey finished speaking. “No, no, Third, I can purchase my own replacement.” His tone waxed melancholy once more as he added, “Though no phone could ever truly replace Laverne.”

Just as he began to mock-sob, they hit the morning rush.

Three hours and ten games of Find the Alphabet later, Gansey was slouched half asleep in the back of the Pig, head leant on Henry’s shoulder, while Henry regaled them with tales of old Aglionby hijinks. The bed & breakfast they’d stayed at last night had been charming but by no means _quiet;_ beachside property seemed to entail endless parties even after summer’s end, and the heavy bass from the next house over had kept them awake far later than they’d intended. Gansey appeared to be suffering the worst of the exhaustion.

The three of them had decided to wake up early today to beat traffic, but apparently leaving at six o’clock wasn’t enough. The cars on 210 idled bumper-to-bumper; every once in a while someone would honk, like the noise would magically clear a path through the crowd. Blue was fighting frustration and losing the battle, her frustration aided by this endless starting and stopping and starting and stopping and—there went the Griffith Park exit. Blue watched herself pass it slowly, as if in a dream… and as she did, traffic began to clear.

It was a sign.

Blue kept going straight.

“What happened?” Henry asked, breaking off in the middle of his story (something about Raven Day floats and papier-mâché gone wrong). “Are we almost there?”

“Not exactly,” Blue hedged. “We, uh. We missed the exit. That traffic was horrendous, Henry—d’you mind seeing the Hollywood sign another time?”

“Not at all! Now that I don’t have a phone to Instagram it with….”

Blue wasn’t sure whether to laugh or coo at his misfortune. Instead, she sighed. “Why don’t I get off at one of the next exits, then, and we can decide what to do from there.” She began to move out of the carpool lane, then carefully picked her way across the other six lanes until she reached the oncoming exit ramp.

“Where’re we going?” Gansey’s voice rose blearily from the backseat.

“No clue,” answered Blue. “I think we’re in… Pasadena?”

“Lake Street,” Henry read off a sign as they reached the intersection.

Gansey leaned forward suddenly between the front seats, hair stuck to his forehead and glasses askew on his face (Blue fought the urge to straighten them). “Wait, did you say Pasadena?” he asked. He had lost his mumble in the span of a moment; now he sounded alert and as excitable as usual. “I read in my guidebook—that’s where the Huntington Library is! I’ve heard their archives are incredible. Do you think we have time to stop?”

Henry slung an arm around his shoulder. “I don’t see why not. If we’re not going to parkour the Hollywood sign, then the day is free to do whatever we want. Right, Blue?”

“Sounds all right to me,” she replied. “But first, breakfast.”

Gansey’s stomach rumbled as if on cue; Blue met Henry’s eyes in the rearview mirror, and the two of them burst into laughter.

* * *

  
After breakfast at the 50’s styled Pie ‘n Burger—Blue had pie; Henry, a burger; and Gansey, blueberry pancakes—Henry drove them to the Library. Blue and Gansey held hands in the backseat, and Gansey smiled his Henrietta-soft smile against her cheek. It never got old, this closeness: no matter how far away they were from home, Gansey could cure homesickness with a touch, and Blue loved him.

“We’re here!” Henry announced loudly. “And need I remind you two that there is _no canoodling_ allowed in the backseat without me?”

Blue rolled her eyes and let her hand drop from Gansey’s as she climbed out of the Pig. “We never agreed to that rule, Cheng. And besides, you and Gansey make out constantly and you don’t see _me_ keeping tally.”

Gansey came up beside Henry to take his arm and spin him into a kiss, and Blue nodded triumphantly, her point proven. “Come on,” Gansey said against Henry’s mouth when they broke apart. “I want to see their First Folio.”

Henry barked a laugh and held his hand open for Blue to hold. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

What Blue hadn’t realized when Gansey brought up the Huntington was that the grounds housed not only a private library, but over a hundred acres of botanical garden. As the three of them walked hand-in-hand to the entrance, they passed between lines of wisteria trees; as they entered the Library, they were greeted by austere marble columns and a tantalizing swath of emerald green lawn just beyond.

Henry bounded off and returned a moment later with a map and three “H” stickers to show they’d paid admission, and they were set.

“It looks like the Folio is on display with some other books over _here_ ,” Henry said, nose to the map. “Not all of the library is open for viewing—you have to make a reservation for the archives. Sorry, Gansey-boy.”

“That’s fine,” Gansey said. He didn’t sound at all put-out by the thought of missing out on books, and Blue wondered idly what about the garden had changed his mind. “Now that we’re here, we may as well explore.”

And explore, they did. In the Desert Garden, Henry found a rainbow cactus— _the gayest one!_ —and named it _Dick IV_. In the Bonsai Garden, Blue made friends with the smallest pomegranate tree she had ever seen. In the Herb Garden, Gansey taste-tested four different varieties of mint. He held tightly to both of their hands whenever the three of them passed a flock of bees, and Blue thanked the stars that none of them seemed particularly aggressive.

Henry kept borrowing Gansey’s phone to take pictures; Gansey, he claimed, was the worst at remembering to photograph their adventures, even after years of documenting his own. When they stumbled upon a row of classical statues on their way to the library proper, Henry’s eyes lit up.

“Look at that one!” he exclaimed, pointing. He skipped over to stand in front of a statue of a disgruntled-looking fellow in full parade regalia, and stuck out his thumb like he was looking to hitchhike.

Blue guffawed. His resemblance to the statue was uncanny—Henry had managed to capture both its pose and expression perfectly. The only things missing were its outfit and awful bowl cut.

“Take a picture, take a picture!” Henry urged. “I want to send this to Lynch, show him what he’s missing out on.”

Blue obliged, taking out her phone to snap a grainy photograph.

“Try that one next,” Gansey called, and pointed to another statue down the way.

Henry saluted and ran over to fold his arms behind his head alluringly. Blue and Gansey followed him, laughing. Blue was in love with this: late afternoon sunshine streaming down to glitter in dew-strewn grass; the sky above blue and bright and cloudless; Henry making them laugh as only he could. Blue thought to herself for possibly the millionth time how lucky they were to find him; how lucky she was to love not only one but _two_ former Raven Boys who were, against all odds, _not assholes_.

Henry winked at her from beside a statue, and Blue felt herself blush. He was a menace—and she loved him.

In the dim, wood-paneled library, Gansey found the First Folio sitting proudly in a glass display case beneath the word _Shakespeare_. Blue had half expected him to switch right into Professor Mode when they arrived, but he went uncharacteristically quiet upon seeing it up close.

“Look,” he said when they joined him, his voice hushed. “Look what page it’s open to.”

Blue leaned over to peer into the case. At first she could hardly read it at all; Shakespeare’s spelling was atrociously inconsistent, and the typeset seemed to have confused its “s”s for “f”s. But after a moment, she saw what he was looking at halfway down the page:

    _ **Glend.**   I say the Earth did shake when I was borne._

“ _Henry the Fourth_ ,” Gansey whispered, reverent. “ _Part One_.”

A year after they had found his body alone in an empty tomb, Glendower followed them.

Blue took Gansey’s right hand; out of the corner of her eye, she saw Henry take his left. “We can stay as long as you’d like,” she said quietly, and Gansey startled.

“Oh—no, it’s all right. We can leave now if you want. We still need to pick up a new phone for Henry before the shops close.”

“You’re a good man, Rich,” Henry said. His voice was soft, and his eyes crinkled at the corners with the brilliance of his grin. “But I want to visit the roses before we skedaddle.”

Gansey shot one last glance at the Folio before drawing back. “Let’s go, then.” He squeezed Blue’s hand, and together the three of them left the air-conditioned building for the bright outdoors.

The roses in the garden outside were absolutely stunning, thought Blue—but not as stunning as Henry and Gansey’s smiles.


End file.
